


Leather and Popcorn

by Covenmouse



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10575201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Covenmouse/pseuds/Covenmouse
Summary: Every galaxy has it's little problems.  For instance, bed-infesting space beetles.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Satine86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/gifts).



On one level, there was some hopelessly, annoyingly,  _ relentlessly  _ optimistic part of herself which kept insisting “Sara, this is it.  We found rock bottom.  Everything is going to be up, up, up! from here on out.” 

And then bandits.  Or killer space brambles.  Or more bandits.  Or aliens with a gene fetish.   Or more fucking bandits.  None of which had to  _ do _ anything, precisely; existing would have been enough of an issue.  They just had to keep on upping the ante.  

Today’s issue was primarily bandits with a side order of bed-infesting alien beetles.  Because every galaxy needs Hell parasites.

“Pathfinder?” 

Sara rubbed her face, resisting a sudden urge to quote Director Addison.  She managed, but just barely.  It wasn’t just that it’d be technically incorrect--far more than her face was tired--but gossip was strange on the Nexus.  She could never be sure what would inevitably travel back to one or more of the directors’ ears, and what wouldn’t.  Or what shape it would be in once it got there.  Already, Director Tann had voiced several concerns over her sympathizing with the Exiles, taking a Krogan lover, and something to do with swiss cheese...

“Uhhh...Pathfinder?”

A huge, blurry object flashed in front of her nose.   Sara jumped back a step with a yelp that ricocheted in the very enclosed, very echo-y hallway.  Several people stopped to stare at her, joining the Turian woman who’d been attempting to help her with...something.  Something.  

“A bed, Sara,” SAM prompted.  “Yours is being fumigated.”

“Sorry.”  Sara held both hands up in a gesture that might have been more placating if the heavy duffle bag suddenly slipping down her arm hadn’t jerked her sideways halfway through.   She cleared her throat as she stood straight.  “Sorry.  Long trip, and wasn’t expecting...this...when I got back.  You said you had a room?”

“Yeah,” the woman agreed slowly.  Though she’d never been particularly great with Turian expressions, time with Vetra made Sara more than reasonably certain the woman was more than a bit incredulous.  Couldn’t blame her, really.  “Can’t say any of us were.”

And there was the sing-song routine Sara had come to expect.  She bit back the waspish retort, just aware enough that the sudden wash of anger had less to do with this woman’s lack of foresight and more with her own general exhaustion.  Lexi would have given her a gold star.   “I know.  Look, I don’t care what the issue with the room is.  I can sleep just about anywhere, provided the lights can dim.  Uh.  The lights can dim, right?”

“Finally.”  The apartment manager snorted derisively, bobbing her head as she flicked her omni-tool back up and typed something into the register.  “A-570.  You’ll be bunking with one of your crewmates.”  

Turning, the manager pointed down the end, then made a vague gesture left.  “Go left at the junction, up the stairs at the end, first door to the right.  Watch out, there’s some damage between here and there.”

Sara nodded, not trusting herself to speak more than she had.  That seemed to be enough for the woman, who hurried around her and back on down the hall. 

“Come on, Ryder, hold it together,” Sara muttered to herself.

“The distance between yourself and the bed is only one-hundred-and-six-point-sixty-eight meters.  At your current speed I estimate your arrival to be never.  You may wish to start walking.”

“Who taught you to be a smart ass?” Sara groaned--but began walking.  Despite herself, a smile  crept onto her face as she shouldered her duffle bag and began the torturous, short walk to the first clean bed she’d had in days.  

“You and your father are very much alike.”  That elicited another groan, far more aggravated.  Before she could reply, SAM continued, “I know you do not care for the comparison, but I do not wish to lie.”

“And I don’t want you to,” Sara agreed.  As she passed, she was aware of people giving her side-long glances.  It was so strange these days.  When she was a child living on the Citadel, aliens sometimes stared because humans were still a novelty.  Sure, they were close in shape to Asari, but their colouring, hair, and attitudes were odd.  Then they’d gone to earth and people there stared, too.  Maybe if they’d moved somewhere more metropolitan she’d have liked earth more.  As it was, Sara felt branded, somehow.  Though the people surrounding her were all just as human as she, her clothes and her slang were never quite right.  She didn’t watch the right vids, or listen to the right music, and she sympathized too much with pro-alien politics.

But here, on the Nexus that both felt like the Citadel and Earth all at once, people stared because she was a symbol, not a person.  That had been well and good when her father was Pathfinder.  When his shoulders were the ones everyone’s hopes and dreams and lives were riding on.  She would have been there on the front lines--sure--but she wasn’t supposed to be in the spotlight.

She wasn’t supposed to be the one letting them down.

Sara turned at the junction.  She stopped, staring at the wreckage swept to either side of the passage.

Comparisons between the Nexus and the Citadel weren’t unfounded.  They were both vast colony ships designed to support a finite population on a permanent basis.  Once complete, the Nexus would be able to stock a great deal of solar energy and, combined with resources mined elsewhere, continue operations into perpetuity with a minimum of constant repair.  

The main differences were in scope, really.  Where the Citadel literally housed millions, the Nexus would only be able to support a few hundred thousand.  But only when it was complete.

With two of the of the four required Arcs still missing--along with their citizens and highly essential power sources--and the bulk of the resources needed to finish construction still not located...well.  Livable space was at a severe premium.  

Establishing two colonies had helped.  Had helped a lot, in fact.  Just that morning, Addison had mentioned they now had a small bank of apartments left open in case the Pathfinders ran into any other sovereign Angaran colonies which might be talked into sending ambassadors.   Or for temporary use by an an exhausted crew having issues with less-sentient locals.  For example.

So of course, someone had to blow shit up.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sara put her head down and began picking her way along the dusty, rubble-strewn corridor.  

It wasn’t as bad as it looked.  Not according to Kesh, at least, who’d been trying to calm an agitated Director Tann.  A few circuit boards blown, some paneling crumbled, a bit of fiberglass furniture mutilated.  Nothing that wasn’t fixable.  No bodies.  

It had been enough to spook the Angaran ambassadors, which is why Tann was throwing fits.  They were used enough to this sort of thing, thanks to the Kett, that they hadn’t up and left...Sara still understood Tann’s outburst, however melodramatic.  The Ambassadors didn’t need to see how divided they still were.  They needed to believe their unexpected, uninvited house guests weren’t going to start a civil war in their living room.  Sara needed to believe that, too--at least for the next couple of hours.

She made it up the stairs without any of the cleaning crews asking her for help, thank Bob.  Though part of her felt guilty for not stopping to offer, the fact was few people around the Nexus felt shy about asking her when they needed something.  That was good, except when it was annoying.  Really, really annoying.

SAM was apparently far ahead of her mood.  The door opened as she approached it, no omni-tool necessary, and shut helpfully behind her.

The dimmer lights did indeed work--were already working.  That was a nice touch.  She was able to see well enough to make out the lines of a kitchenette, a couch, and a divider panel that likely separated the living area from the sleeping area; all she needed, really.  

Sara dumped her bag on the couch, toeing out of her initiative-issued shoes and stripping away her jacket as she crossed toward the presumed bedroom.   Neatness had never been a real concern of hers; a fact that’d done her few favors during her military service.  This wasn’t military, though.  She was so, so very grateful for that.

“Sara, I believe the apartment manager said you would be sharing--” SAM began just as she reached the bed.  Just as she dove face-first into the mattress.

The world flipped; her skull exploded with pain.  Limbs--some her own, some otherwise--scrambled around to find purchase, find a way out, figure out what was going on.  She fell off the bed.   A gun cocked.  The world went still.

“The bloody hell?  Sara?”

The apartment lights raised to Liam Kosta--in full, shirt-less,  _ pants-less _ glory--with one knee on the bed and his pistol in hand, staring at her.  Sara groaned, putting both hands over her face as she back on the floor. 

“SAM?”

“I tried to warn you.”

It took several minutes for them to gather themselves.  Liam finally got the gun out of her face--a small mercy, Sara hadn’t wanted to make an issue of it but if he’d continued a minute longer she’d have started getting mouthy--and hastily pulled some pants on.  She’d levered herself off the floor and more or less resumed a regular, non-lobster color.

They met in the living room, glancing awkwardly between the rest of the room and each other.  Finally, hands braced against her hips, spread her stance, and faced him like she might a firing squad.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t know you were already in there.”  

That wasn’t right.  Sara put both hands up, waving them before he could parse it through.  “I mean, I didn’t know you were going to be in there at  _ all _ , I wasn’t  _ waiting _ for you.  I just knew  _ someone  _ was going to be in here--like,  _ eventually  _ in here--with me.”

Sara hesitated, briefly, as she dropped her hands.  Dropped them, then raised them again.  Talking with her hands was a bit of a habit, and as she continued so, too, did the gesture.  “Only, not. I guess.  Sort of.  That lady told me--the Turian one; the not-Vetra--she said someone from the crew  _ would _ be using the room at some point.  Not sure why I didn’t realize.  Clearly, right?  I mean it flows.  We just got in and everyone’s tired, and we can’t use our own rooms so why wouldn’t they be here, right?  You even said...and I guess I wasn’t listening.”

Putting a hand over her face, Sara tried to force a breath.  She was rattled.  She hated it when she got rattled.  “Look, I’m just sorry. OK?”

Liam chuckled.  

Splitting her fingers apart so she could peer between them, Sara was surprised to find Liam watching her with a gigantic grin plastered across his face.  He laughed more broadly at her, arms crossing over his chest, and shook his head.  “It’s fine.  Really.  Just...after all of this, I’d started to think you were pretty unflappable.” 

“Consider me flapped.”

He laughed, and this time Sara couldn’t help but join in.  It was a ridiculous situation, but what wasn’t these days?  

For half a minute Sara considered going back to the apartment manager, seeing if they couldn’t find another place.  Maybe put her in with Cora.  Already, though, she could feel the adrenaline beginning to wane.  She was going to crash and burn, and at the end of the day did it really matter if Liam was in the same room?  They were teammates, and friends, and...well.  Nothing else.  Not that she would object if--Sara cut that thought off with a gesture toward the couch.  “I’ll just crash out here, if it’s all the same.  Sorry I gave you a heart attack.”

“You really did.  I mean, damn, I’ve had some close calls but I think that actually scared a year out of me.”  Liam shook his head.  “They ought’a add ‘body-slam awakening’ to a training roster.  Really get the adrenaline pumping.”

Scoffing, Sara reached behind her to grab a flimsy throw pillow off the couch.  “What can I say?  I gotta keep you on your toes.  That was a decent scramble, by the way.”

“Damn good thing SAM was on the lights,” Liam agreed.  He reached forward, taking the pillow from Sara’s hands.  “Hey, you don’t need to do this.  I can--”

“Come on, Kosta,” Sara groaned, tipping back in a full body slump.   She completed the gesture falling bonelessly onto the couch beside her abandoned duffle bag.  “I don’t care if that’s because I’m a girl or technically your boss, please don’t start.  You were here first.”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to take your place.”  Liam spread both hands quickly; dropping the pillow in the process.  He fumbled to catch it, and smiled sheepishly at Sara.  “I was gonna say we’re both adults, and it’s a huge bed.  No sense in your breaking your back on this ridiculous thing.”

For emphasis, he kicked the leg of the couch.  It didn’t budge.

Sara, who was fairly certain the cushion hadn’t even dented when she’d sat on it, gave the couch a dubious look.  

“Not sure who their decorator was, but I’m hoping they didn’t make the jump. Not certain I want to meet anyone who thinks that's comfortable,” Liam said into the awkward.  At Sara’s look, he shrugged.  “There’s a few good ones scattered around the Nexus, but they’re pretty hard to get your hands on.  Most of the apartments got fitted with these rocks.”

“How’d you manage to get yours, then?  It’s pretty comfy.”   


“You...probably don’t want the answer to that,” Liam drawled slowly, making a face that begged for explanation.  

“Now I  _ really  _ do.”

“Let’s just say it involved a few bribes, dry cleaning, and a rough dozen cans of anti-bacterial spray.”

“You paid for a really dirty couch?”

“Oh,  _ no _ .  The bribes were to get me to take it. I'd have anyway, but I know a good deal when it's when offered.”

“Suddenly, I have no desire to be on a couch.”  Rocking back up onto her feet, Sara stretched until she heard her back crack. The adrenaline that had been pumping since their little...encounter...was beginning to fade now.  A crash was looming on the horizon, and she wanted some kind of stable ground beneath her before it hit.  

Lord, wasn’t that just the perfect metaphor these days?

“You’re a pal, Kosta,” she said as she passed him on the way back to the bed, tagging his arm lightly with her fist.  

“Yeah, I know.”  

The bed clothes were thoroughly tossed.  Sara didn’t care.  She flopped into them the same as she had before, though with far less pain this go-around.  Lesson not learned.  

A minute later, the bed shook as Liam did much the same on the other side.  There was a moment’s pause, like the entire apartment was taking one big breath of awkward.  Then Liam grunted.

“The fucking lights.”

Sara was the first to laugh. Like an avalanche, they both dissolved into giggles.  The awkwardness dissipated into thin air as SAM quite helpfully dimmed the lights.  And then...then there was silence, and sleep.

The last thing Sara was aware of--something she'd noticed before, but never quite so strongly--was a scent lingering on the pillow she was using.  Liam's scent, she thought blearily.  Gun oil, leather...and... _popcorn?_  


End file.
